


(Not) Beauty and the Beast, A Fractured Fairy Tale

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: Severus sets out to win the heart of Remus Lupin with the help of a potion to make him handsome and charming, but Remus remains oddly immune to his new charms.





	(Not) Beauty and the Beast, A Fractured Fairy Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005.

"Once upon a time, there was an ugly, bitter Potions master who was in love with a poor but handsome werewolf." Severus glared into the mirror, his expression sour enough to crack it. "I hate these kinds of stories," he muttered. 

"I don't much fancy your chances of winning anybody, even a poverty-stricken werewolf, looking like that," his mirror replied in a haughty tone. Severus could practically hear its disdainful sniff, and his scowl deepened. It was a bad day indeed when you couldn't get your own damned mirror to say something positive. 

"Nobody asked you!" he snapped. He whirled and stormed out of the bathroom, although the dramatic effectiveness of his exit was lessened by the fact that he was wearing only a towel rather than his usual billowing robes. 

The damnable thing was, Severus knew the mirror was right. He _didn't_ stand a chance of winning Remus looking the way he did. His skin was sallow, his nose was big and hooked, his body was skinny, his teeth were crooked, and his hair was oily, which meant he had a difficult time keeping it looking clean even when he made an effort -- which he did, nowadays. 

And then there was the little matter of his abrasive, surly, aloof nature. Prince Charming he was not in either temperament or appearance. He had far more in common with the nasty, brutish ogre who always threatened to kill the princess or the prince or both. Naturally, it was the ogre who ended up dead at the end of the story instead. 

Ogre-ish he may be, but Severus wasn't dead yet. He'd survived the war, and while he complained bitterly to Minerva that his students would be the death of him yet through their sheer stupidity, he rather thought he had a nice long life ahead of him. 

A nice long, lonely, empty life. 

That hadn't bothered him in the least until he fell in love with Remus Lupin, which he hadn't meant to do in the first place and which he'd fought tooth and nail until it became obvious that his heart -- damned insufferable, stubborn organ that it was -- was determined to have its own way. Only then did he begin to contemplate the empty years stretching out before him. Only then did he begin to realize he didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone, plodding through day after day, year after year of getting up, trying to cram knowledge through the thick skulls of spotty, hormonal adolescents, retiring to his chambers to read after dinner, and going to bed alone, repeat ad nauseum. 

It was Remus' fault, of course. It wouldn't have happened if Remus hadn't come to him just after the war and tried to bury the hatchet. They'd been at odds long enough, Remus said, and it was time for them to sort out the past so they could face the future without all the baggage. 

For Severus, that meant a great deal of shouting, vituperative insults, deflection, and -- eventually -- acceptance that Remus had not, in fact, been privy to Black's plan to murder him. 

For Remus, that meant a great deal of patience, listening, calmly spoken words, and tea laced with alcohol. 

After that, they gravitated toward one another more frequently, likely because neither of them had anyone else to gravitate toward. After a week or two of casual meals, chess games, and conversations that lasted far longer than either expected, Severus grudgingly and indirectly admitted he might have been hasty in outing Remus to the school.

The tenor of their meetings seemed to change after that. Remus seemed more relaxed in Severus' company, the calm politeness fading into a friendlier demeanor which resulted in Severus finding himself on the receiving end of good-natured teasing, which was surprising. He liked it and held up his end of the banter, which was even more surprising. 

He liked Remus' company. He liked _Remus_ , and somewhere along the way, liking turned to loving. The problem was, he thought as he dressed in his usual austere robes, he had no idea how to court anyone, much less another man. He wasn't the type to romance someone, and he wasn't even certain if Remus was interested in being romanced by him. Remus did seek him out and seemed to enjoy his company, but that could mean he liked Severus as a friend, nothing more. 

And who could blame him? Severus had little to offer, even to an impoverished werewolf. He might stand a better chance if he were handsome and charming, but he wasn't. 

He was a wizard, however, and damned good with potions, and that was an advantage in its own right. 

For the next few nights, he spent hours with his nose buried in books he'd long scorned as frivolous nonsense: texts dedicated to improving one's appearance through charms and potions, and guides to romance. At last, he found a potion that would solve all of his problems; it was guaranteed to transform both his looks and his personality, turning him into a perfect Prince Charming capable of wooing and winning anyone he set his mind on. 

The problem was, the effects of the potion would only last for three days. If Remus didn't fall in love with him and give him True Love's Kiss before midnight on the third day, he would revert to his old self, and it would take a long time before he could afford to brew the potion again, much too long a time for him to have any hope of winning Remus. If Remus did fall in love and kiss him, however, then he would remain handsome and charming, and they could have their happily ever after. 

It took two weeks to gather the ingredients; the Veela hair had to be imported, and siren scales were rare and difficult items to procure except from exclusive -- i.e. expensive -- apothecaries, but if the potion succeeded in helping him get what he wanted, he would consider it worth the price. 

It wasn't a particularly difficult potion to make, not for a brewer of his skill, and before long, he had a beaker full of bubbly pink potion in his hand, ready for him to drink. He drew in a deep breath, knowing he was about to take a step that would change his life in more ways than one, but he wanted those changes -- wanted Remus to fall in love with him -- and he didn't have any other recourse, for he knew Remus could never love him as he was. 

He drank, gagging on the sickly sweet taste of the brew, but he managed to keep it down, and in a matter of moments, he felt the transformation overcome him, a prickle beneath his skin that swelled to a searing pain as he was reshaped, inside and out. 

With a low cry, he collapsed, panting, on the cold stone floor, unable to do anything more than lie still and wait for the disorientation to abate. Closing his eyes, he pressed his cheek against the chilly stone, letting it cool the flush in his skin. When he no longer felt as if he was either going to throw up or fly apart, he peeked out at the world again. 

The first thing he noticed was his hand. He'd flung one arm out, and the sleeve of his robes rode up enough that he could see pale, smooth skin almost up to his elbow. 

Pale, not sallow. The shape of his hand hadn't changed; it was still finely boned, and his fingers were long and slender, but they were no longer stained or calloused. 

It had worked! 

Pushing himself upright, he shook off the residual effects of the transformation and hurried upstairs to his bathroom to look in the mirror. 

A stranger stared back at him, and it was a shock to realize he didn't recognize his own face. Clean, dark hair swept back from his forehead, falling to his shoulders in a thick, glossy mane. His complexion was pale and perfect with just a faint hint of a rosy blush in his cheeks. His lips were fuller and redder, no longer thin and bloodless. His nose was aquiline rather than hooked. Only his eyes were the same: large and dark, framed by long, sooty-black lashes. 

He lifted his hands to his cheeks, skimming his fingertips lightly over the creamy skin as he stared in the mirror to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming. This really was his face now; surely it was a face Remus could love. 

Baring his teeth, he saw that they too had been fixed; they were perfect, straight, and blindingly white. 

"Oo, give us a smile, love," his mirror cooed at him. "I bet you'd give Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money with those choppers." 

He ignored the mirror's compliments, although secretly he was pleased he'd finally got its approval; perhaps that boded well for his chances of pleasing Remus as well. Drawing his wand, he made a sweeping gesture down the length of his body, and the stark, unrelieved black of his robes softened, fading into midnight blue. _There_ , he thought, looking down at himself with satisfaction. A new face, a new color, a new Severus Snape. It was exactly what he'd hoped for. 

He wasted no time in hurrying off to London and to #12 Grimmauld Place; Remus shared the house with Potter, but from what Severus had heard, Potter was off training to be an Unspeakable, which meant Severus wouldn't have to worry about Potter interfering or trying to throw obstacles in his quest to win Remus. For once, things were working out in his favor. 

The stunned look on Remus' face -- wide eyes, slack jaw and all -- when he opened the door was worth it. Severus had never managed to crack Remus' composure before, but apparently showing up with a new face was enough to do it. 

"Severus?" Remus peered at him, as if he wasn't certain whether to believe his eyes or not. "My God, what have you done to yourself?" 

"The war is over, and it's time for a change," Severus said grandly. "A new life and a new me. What do you think?" 

"I... think you look very different." 

That wasn't quite the rousing endorsement Severus was looking for, but perhaps Remus was still in shock. 

Reaching out, he captured Remus' hand and lifted it, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. Remus' skin was warm against his lips, and he longed to dart his tongue out for a taste, but he didn't want to risk Remus yanking his hand away and slamming the door in horror. Time enough for tasting once he knew where he stood. 

"If you're free, I would be honored to have your company at dinner," he said, raising his head and gazing up at Remus, heat kindling in his dark eyes. 

His old self would have been vastly amused to see Remus' eyes bugging out and his mouth working like a fish out of water, but at least Remus wasn't laughing or pushing him away. 

"Yes, all right," Remus said at last, clearing his throat as he seemed to compose himself. 

The evening didn't go quite as Severus had planned. In his mind, he'd constructed a scenario in which Remus was swept off his feet by Severus' new appearance and new personality, and the evening ended with a moonlight stroll along the Thames, a bottle of wine, and blushing hints that love might soon follow. There was also that bit about playing footsie under the table at the restaurant, but that was more of a fantasy than part of Severus' plan. 

What actually happened, however, was quite different. There was a little awkward small talk and a lot of gaping, especially when Severus offered charming compliments. Had he been possessed of his old, caustic personality, Severus would likely have snapped at Remus, demanding that he shut his mouth before he caught flies, but instead, he found himself uttering praise of Remus' rosy lips, which, of course, resulted in more boggling. 

He did walk Remus home -- no romantic strolls by the moon-caressed water, unfortunately -- and Remus fled inside the house as if a Dementor was on his heels. Severus couldn't understand it. He'd done all the right things to express his interest in Remus, and he'd said all the right things to charm him. So why wasn't Remus charmed, damn it? 

He did wrangle Remus into accepting an invitation to have a picnic on the Hogwarts grounds by the lake the next day, which gave him hope that perhaps Remus was merely shy and needed time to grow accustomed to the new Severus. But if anything, the picnic was an even worse disaster than the dinner date. 

Everyone except Filch was gone for the summer, so they had complete privacy -- much good that it did Severus. His attempt to feed Remus strawberries and cream was met with amusement; Remus informed him that he'd been feeding himself since he was five years old, thus he didn't see any need for Severus to do it for him now. When Severus tried to embrace Remus and lower him to the blanket for a searing kiss, Remus bounced right back up, scratching wildly and complaining of ants. 

Frustrated and annoyed, Severus packed up the picnic things after Remus departed and stormed back to the castle, wondering where the hell he was going wrong. Time was slipping away, but he was no closer to winning Remus' affection than he had been before he started, and he was running out of ideas, especially since the mention of a slow carriage ride through the countryside had been greeted with more boggling and amusement and a quiet, polite, "I don't think so, Severus." 

On the third day, he stepped up his attempts, sending both flowers, sweets, and an ode to the captivating, chameleon quality of Remus' blue-green eyes. Remus sent back the flowers and the ode, but not the sweets. He had always been, Severus admitted grudgingly, the most pragmatic Gryffindor Severus had ever known. 

By 11:30 that night, Severus was desperate. Returning to London, he banged on the door of #12 Grimmauld Place, shouting at the dark windows that he would remain outside until someone let him in. Remus came to the door at last, sleepy-eyed and wearing a faded dressing gown over equally faded plaid flannel pyjamas. Severus had to resist the urge to fling both arms around him and kiss him senseless for looking so adorable. 

"I had to see you," Severus declared breathlessly. 

"What?" Remus rubbed one eye with his fist. "Why? You don't have any mad notions of running off together, do you?"

"Would you?" Severus asked eagerly, and Remus stared at him blankly for a moment, as if unable to believe he was serious, and then shook his head. 

"No, Severus, I don't want to run off with you."

"But why?" Severus reached out and fisted his hands in the folds of Remus' dressing gown, gazing imploringly at him. "Haven't I done everything perfect and right to court you?" 

Gently prying Severus' hands loose, Remus stepped inside and ushered Severus into the house. "Come in. I think we'd best have this conversation inside before you wake the neighbors." 

Severus followed him into the parlor, taking a seat on the sofa and giving Remus a mournful look when he sat down in a nearby chair rather than beside Severus. 

"Look." Remus began in a kind, patient voice that Severus knew signaled his doom. That wasn't the voice of a lover; it was the voice of a man trying to let someone down easy. Remus didn't care for him. He was about to get the 'let's just be friends' speech, and he could feel the bottom falling out of his stomach at the mere thought. He'd done all this for nothing. Remus knew how he felt, and he would have to live with the humiliation of having exposed his heart to someone who didn't want it. Who might even use the information against him to hurt or humiliate him. 

"I appreciate everything you've done for the past three days, and I'm flattered, really, but..." 

_Here it comes_ , Severus thought bitterly. The brush-off. 

"But it isn't really you." 

"What?" Severus stared at him, puzzled. 

"This look, these clothes, the charm, that poem -- it's not you," Remus said, waving one hand up and down to encompass Severus' entire form. "The _real_ Severus Snape would never send me flowers."

"The real Severus Snape is a fool!" Severus exclaimed passionately, throwing himself at Remus' feet and clasping Remus' hand between both his own. 

"No." Remus gently tugged his hand free of Severus' grasp. "The real Severus Snape is anything but." 

On the mantle, a small clock began to chime, and Severus spun around to stare at it in disbelief, wild-eyed and almost frantic as it struck the hour, twelve delicate tones that signaled his failure. A wail of loss and despair tore from his throat as he collapsed, his body wracked with the agony of transformation. His fingers clawed the rug, scrabbling desperately as he tried to fight off the change, but even his stubborn and desperate will couldn't change the laws of magic, and he was left slumped on the floor, panting, fully restored to his former self. 

Temper and all. 

As soon as he'd recovered enough to move, he struggled to get to his feet, his hands clenching into fists by his sides as he fixed Remus with a dark, forbidding glare. Furious and humiliated, he wanted to lash out, to flay Remus as his heart had been flayed by the rejection. 

"You fool!" he snarled. "You're nothing but a typical blind, idiotic Gryffindor, and I don't know why I bothered with you! I did this for _you_ , you thickheaded dolt, but of course it was wasted effort. I should have known better, and I regret even trying!" 

As he ranted, a heated gleam appeared in Remus' eyes, and Remus began to move toward him, although "moving" seemed like an inadequate way to describe the loose roll of Remus' gait. "Stalking" was more accurate, Severus thought, part of his mind unfurling its figurative tongue and panting at the sight. 

Suddenly, he found his tirade interrupted by a pair of warm hands framing his face and a pair of equally warm lips stopping the flow of vituperative words with a kiss. Severus' mind locked up, frozen in shock, and his body took advantage of the opportunity and took over, forcing him to part his lips and snake his tongue out to meet and twine with Remus'. 

"Oh, yes, that's it." Remus murmured the words against Severus' lips when they parted at last, although Severus vaguely wondered where he'd got the breath to speak. Perhaps he'd stolen it all from Severus' lungs. "Talk snarky to me, Severus." 

"What?" Severus' brows snapped together as he pulled back enough to stare at Remus, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "What the devil are you blathering about?"

"I'm flattered that you went to such trouble for me, Severus." Remus' mouth curved in a soft smile as he stroked Severus' cheek with his thumb. "I'm relieved, too. I've been working up the nerve to approach you all summer, but I didn't want to reach out my hand and pull back a bloody stump. I also didn't want to lose your friendship, and I couldn't tell whether you regarded me merely as tolerable company, or if you might be interested in more than chess and conversation." 

"If you're so damned interested in me, then why didn't you kiss me before the potion wore off?" Severus demanded peevishly. 

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I don't want Beauty. I want the Beast." Remus' expression was as calm as always, but there was a heat kindling in his eyes that made an answering heat pool in the pit of Severus' stomach. "That potion made you handsome and charming, yes, but if I wanted someone handsome and charming, I wouldn't have fallen for you in the first place, now would I?" 

Severus thought of the stomach-turning ode he'd written under the influence of the potion and shrugged. "Handsome and charming are overrated." 

"Not to mention bloody boring," Remus agreed, drawing Severus close for another kiss. 

Severus listened with smug satisfaction to Remus' moan as their lips met again, and he answered with a soft hum of pleasure of his own as he wound his arms around Remus' waist, secure in the knowledge there would be a happy ending to the story after all.


End file.
